All the Little Pieces
by Lucifer's Garden
Summary: And all the while, he wondered how one little girl could bleed so much and still be alive. PreRayne one shot, T for language, violence, and mentions of rape nothing graphic.


**Firefly and everything affiliated with it belongs to Joss Whedon, the show's creator.**

Jayne/River centered fic, not necessarily a romance, but it's definitely all about them as a duo. Pre-BDM, rated T for language, violence, and rape (not graphic).

_When they say _

_You're not that strong_

_You're not that weak_

_It's not your fault_

_And when you climb up to your hill_

_Up to your place_

_I hope you're well_

_There's nothing left to prove_

_There's nothing I won't do_

_There's nothing like the pain_

_I feel for you_

_Nothing left to hide_

_Nothing left to feel_

_I am always here_

"Not Enough" – Our Lady Peace

_**All The Little Pieces**_

Jayne came around slowly, eyelids resisting all the way. A nanosecond later there was pain, so, so much pain, like his skull was splitting open. He was lying face down on gritty pavement, partially in a mud puddle, waiting for the world to stop spinning wildly all around him. An alley, it seemed. He gathered that it was dark, and felt a momentary wave of gratitude at the prospect of not having sunlight stab its way through his eyes and into his brain. Either it was the worst hangover he'd ever had, or –

_Hang on_.

He was getting that feeling in his gut – the feeling that told him something was wrong, very wrong, cause for alarm and the powerful need to be up on his feet with a weapon in hand. He lurched up awkwardly, like an animal recovering from a heavy tranq, searching himself for any guns or knives that had not been stolen. There were none, a sign in itself was a sign that something bad happened. That, and there were shoe prints and bruises all over him. He tasted copper in his mouth.

There was something thick and sticky coating the back of his head and neck, and the feeling of dread intensified to the point where he was almost nauseous. He didn't have to reach back and feel around to know that it was blood, and that there was a sizeable wound at the back of his skull, but he did anyway. His shaking fingers came back red, almost brown. He could see it even in the dark.

There was more blood on the ground. A lot more than what came out of his head. He frowned and followed the smeared trail closer to the entrance of the alley until the sight of a small, dark figure sucked the wind out of his lungs.

"Oh, ruttin' hell," he rasped, stumbling forward. "No, no, no . . ."

"_Gorram it girl, get yer ass back here!" he bellowed, elbowing his way into the dim, smoke-filled tavern. "You can't go in there!"_

_River darted around a table and stuck her tongue out at him, using one of the startled patrons as a human shield. "Jayne has to catch her!"_

"_I'll catch you all right," he threatened, lunging after her. "And I'm gonna break both your skinny twig legs, to boot! Let's see you try to run away then, huh?" Why Mal had stuck him as the crazy broad's babysitter for the day instead of letting him accompany the others on a job, the merc would never understand. Ever since they had been dropped off in this little dead end down on Beylix, the girl had been nothing but a pain in his well-muscled rear end._

_She shrieked and dove out of his reach, dancing like some agile little fairy. A fairy that was gonna get its pretty little wings pulled off. The customers laughed raucously at the scene being created for them, and some even went so far as to cheer the girl on. Even the bartender seemed a little reluctant to break up the fun. Jayne, red-faced and practically frothing at the mouth, followed clumsily in her wake, shoving people out of his way as he saw fit._

_He came to a sudden halt when he saw River run smack into a tall, skinny man in a suit at the bar. The man reached out and steadied her, a grin landing on his bony features that made Jayne instantly wary. He then moved to put his arm around her shoulders, as though they were old friends. This, Jayne did not like._

"_Well now," the Suit leered, eyeing River up and down. "What's all this then, darling? Got someone after you who should be minding his own business?"_

_River stared up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes. "She and Jayne were playing," she explained, pointing over her shoulder. The merc in question tramped his way up the pair and yanked the girl over to his side, glaring at the Suit._

"_Yeah," he rumbled, pleased to see how much taller he was than this scrawny piece of _go se_. "We was playing. And now I'm takin' her out of here. Got somethin' to say about that?"_

_The Suit grinned, and a gold cap flashed menacingly in the dim light. "No need to get grabby with her, friend. My boys and I just enjoy good scenery, is all. How old are you, little one?"_

"_Seventeen years, eight months, six days, nine hours, and twenty two minutes," she replied innocently, before Jayne could tell him to mind his own damn business. The Suit laughed uproariously at her answer. The sound made the merc's skin crawl._

_Out the corner of his eye, Jayne saw several men stand up and move closer, all dressed similarly to their greasy-haired leader. He kept River pinned close, quickly beginning to dislike where the situation was heading. A bunch of thugs, he could handle, but he wasn't so sure how happy he'd be to put the kid in the middle of something like that. Mal and the doc – not to mention everyone else on the damn ship – would have a thing or two to say to him._

"_She's awful cute," the lead Suit commented, lighting up a cigar. His eyes were roaming River's body in a way that made Jayne want to rip them out of their sockets. "It's of interest to me and mine how such a sweet little thing came into your company, friend."_

"_I ain't yer friend," Jayne snarled. "And as for the kid, she ain't none of your concern. Now we was just leaving, and I don't want to be lookin' over my shoulder as we do so."_

"_He plans to hurt you," River whispered to him, going up on her toes to meet his ear. "And he's going to force sexual intercourse on the girl."_

"_Like hell he is," Jayne hissed back, narrowing his eyes on the greasy Suit, who had overheard River's comment. He raised an eyebrow._

"_My, my," he chuckled, blowing a cloud of smoke over his shoulder. "Quite a little mind reader you've got with you. That should make things interesting."_

_Something cold crept into Jayne's stomach, a sense of unease that warned him it was time to be careful. He finally conceded to turn and look at the small gang of suits that had gradually moved in around them, and noted that there were more than he had originally thought. Some of them were openly carrying weapons, which was supposedly against the law on Beylix. He himself had only managed to sneak a few of his own guns and knives on his person, having been forced to leave the flashier ones behind on _Serenity_. But these men were different. The bartender had gone completely silent, keeping his eyes fixed on the glass he was polishing. The other patrons in the bar were busy staring down at their drinks, refusing to watch the confrontation. Some were even getting up to leave. Jayne began to suspect that the suits were above the law, and that nobody would dare stand up to them on their own turf. Local crime group. Fan-_fucking_-tastic._

"_Any visions o' yours pop up, you let me know," he grunted to the girl at his side. She bit her lip and stared at the lead suit._

"_It doesn't matter which door," she replied grimly. "He can have us taken out at the front or the back."_

_Jayne cursed and began looking for whichever exit was closest, seeing as how it wouldn't make any damn difference. The back door wasn't far behind him, and if he and the girl moved quickly enough they might make it in time to avoid a full on confrontation, at least long enough so that River could make a quick escape. The rest of the gang hadn't quite made it all the way around him yet._

"_Too many," she told him, her voice starting to quaver._

"_I know it," he snapped, deciding now was the time to act._

_The events that followed happened so quickly that even those who had been watching in the bar weren't exactly sure what had gone down. It started with Jayne pulling a smaller handgun out from the back of his trousers, moving faster than the suits could have anticipated. He shoved River behind him and fired off six shots in rapid succession, most of them meeting their targets. Five men fell down. The sixth shot grazed the lead Suit in the shoulder just as he was pulling out his own gun. He yelled and dropped it._

_River, reading Jayne's thoughts, darted for the back door and flew out into the awaiting alley. The merc followed close behind, and almost managed to slam the door shut after him when the girl screamed and it banged open again, sending Jayne sailing into the opposite wall._

"_Run, damn it!" he shouted, shooting wildly as the rest of the suits came piling outside. River turned to do as he said, but one of the more athletic gang members launched himself on top of her before she could take two steps. She fell to the ground with a muted cry, and Jayne started seeing red. He only just made it to his feet with a powerful intention to cause some hurt before they were kicked out from under him again. He landed on his stomach, the wind knocked from him in a sickening rush. A slick, polished leather shoe came down on the back of his neck and several pairs of hands held him down._

"_I'm not going to kill you, _Jayne_," the suit's oily voice sneered, leaning down to warm Jayne's ear with his foul breath. "I'm going to make sure you wake up later. You're going to wake up and see what we did to your little friend."_

_Jayne struggled as hard as he could, but the hands and bodies pressed down on him so tight that he was losing oxygen._

"_Eat shit, you son of a –"_

_Someone's boot caught him in the side of the head, silencing him. A rampage of kicks and bludgeons rained down, forcing him into a corner in his mind where the pain wasn't completely unbearable. He could hear River putting up as best a fight as she could, and under the fear and fury the merc felt a glimmer of pride when he heard a few pained grunts as her blows landed true. But then he heard the telltale rip of her dress being torn apart and she started screaming. Then the suits were laughing, and one of them finally lowered himself on top of her. And then the reality of what was about to happen sank in, and Jayne panicked._

"_RIVER!" he roared, spitting out chips of teeth and blood, "RIVER, DON'T LET THEM SEE YOU BREAK, YA HEAR ME? DON'T LET 'EM WIN, BABY, DON'T YOU DARE –"_

_And everything went dark._

She was lying on her side, curled up and naked from the waist down, shirt hanging off her in ribbons. The ground underneath was stained dark crimson, and he didn't even want to imagine what part of her little body most of it had come from. Just about every square inch of pale skin was marked with bruises, especially her inner thighs and breasts. Her hands were bound tightly in front of her, and the wires cut the flesh on her wrists, making them raw and red. In some places, she had been battered so hard that bits of skin were torn off.

Jayne collapsed at her side, mentally sending up any and all prayers he had been taught in Sunday school all those years ago. _Don't be dead, don't be dead_. With shaking fingers he unraveled the cables binding her hands together. He then wrenched off his jacket and wrapped it around her as gently as he could, unused to being so careful, so delicate. His hands were accustomed to causing pain, not easing it. He half pulled her into his lap and pushed her dark matted hair aside to get a better look. He grimaced at the sight she made, dirtied up and bloodstained under the nose and out the corners of her mouth, one eye sporting a shiner that would surely last for weeks. Her expression was unnervingly tranquil; like she was just sleeping.

His eyes landed on the trail of blood that had led him to her. Against his will, he pictured her crawling as best as she could to get help before blacking out, dragging her poor broken little body inch by aching inch to call out to someone, anyone that might be close enough to hear. The very thought of it brought on a tidal wave of rage that hit him so hard he started shaking, his teeth chattering. He was going to hunt down every last suit on this gorram planet and make them pay for daring to lay their filthy stinking hands on this girl, and for stealing away everything about her that made her, _her_. He was going take them all out, with his bare hands if he must, and he would do it laughing. River probably wasn't the first girl they'd done this to, and he doubted she would be the last if they were allowed to keep breathing.

One arm held her upright slightly, and with his free hand, Jayne lightly patted her cheek. "Come on, girl," he coaxed, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Gotta wake up now. You think I'm draggin' you back to the doc like this?"

For a long time she didn't stir, but he kept at it, looking for a sign that she was in there, somewhere, waiting to be found again. And then she coughed, shuddering violently in his arms. Her eyes opened and stared up at him, fuzzy-like and disoriented. She started whimpering and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, turning her face away in terror, but he held her fast.

"Calm down kid, it's Jayne," he said in the softest tone he possessed. "I ain't gonna hurt you none. Relax."

She paused and peered up at him, slowly coming back down to earth. "Jayne?" she whispered, her lips trembling.

He tried to smile down at her the way her brother would, or even Mal, pushing a dark curl off her damp brow. "Yeah."

Tears welled up and splashed down her cheeks so fast that he barely had time to react to them before she was clinging to him, sobbing with her face nuzzled into his chest. "They b-beat me," she wailed, her voice a strangled mess that echoed in the alley. "It hurts . . . they went ins-side me . . . they –"

"Hush now," he said hurriedly, resting his chin on top of her head. "Got nothin' to be scared of no more."

She shook her head in despair.

"I-I'm always causing trouble . . ." she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Never still, I . . . I c-carry the cross, and it always f-finds me . . . why can't I ever just b-be good like Simon sa-says?" She tried to laugh, and couldn't. "Simon says. Simon sa –"

He pulled back sharply, just enough to look her in the eye, shaking her a little. "You quit that. Don't you go sayin' this was your fault. Them suits is to blame. Anyone who calls hisself a man after doin' that kind of thing to a little girl is just askin' for a world of hurt. And I'm gonna give it to them, kid, I'm gonna make them pay real hard for what they done to you. _Dong ma_?"

She nodded weakly and buried her face against him one more time. He thought for a moment that she would surely fall apart in his arms. "You called me baby," she murmured. Jayne felt her eyelashes brush against the skin of his neck as she closed her eyes.

He snorted slightly at the memory. "Yeah, guess I did. Dunno why."

"I liked it," she told him, sounding close to fainting again.

"Well, good. That's good." He felt her go limp suddenly, and he breathed a sigh of relief knowing that she didn't have to feel any pain for a while. He mustered up what remained of his strength and scooped her up to begin the long trek back to the ship, one agonizing step at a time. And all the while, he wondered how one little girl could bleed so much and still be alive.

"River?"

Simon had gone so white that he nearly looked like a ghost, his eyes fixed in horror on the little bundle of skin and bones in Jayne's arms. It was something Jayne had tried to prepare himself for, but ultimately failed to do so. The look on the doc's face was enough to cause a sharp, unfamiliar pain in his chest as he stumbled up the ramp into the cargo bay.

Questions were hurled at him left and right, but the merc could only concentrate on transferring River into Mal's arms. The captain took her wordlessly and carried her as though she were a feather. Simon hovered barely an inch a way, all the while calling his sister's name and trying to check her vitals over Mal's elbow.

Jayne watched the two men lead the way to the infirmary, glad that River would finally get looked after. He leaned heavily against a stack of boxes, struggling to catch his wind. His body was on fire, the bruises and cuts finally catching up with him. He was positive that he had a few broken ribs, and his vision was swimming.

A warm hand descended on his shoulder, and he was too exhausted to flinch. He knew who it was anyway. The shepherd peered down at him anxiously. "You okay, son?"

"Jus' need a minute," he wheezed, waving the older man away. "Ain't nothin'. Go to the kid."

Even so, Book waited until his younger friend was able to stand upright and accompanied him to the infirmary where the others had gathered anxiously. Kaylee was sobbing into Wash's shoulder, who had his arm around her as comfortingly as he could even though he looked like he could use someone to lean on too. Zoe stood nearby, watching with the same tight-lipped silence that made people mistake her for a heartless woman. Mal and Inara were working silently in the sickbay, helping the doctor get his things in order with identically grim faces. The doctor's jaw was clenched so tight that they could all see the muscles bunching from where they observed outside the infirmary.

Jayne dared to step inside to get a better look. They had removed what was left of River's clothes, as well as the jacket he had put on her, and she lay naked on the examination table with a blanket pulled up to keep her decent.

"Is she gonna be alright?" the merc asked hesitantly.

Simon stopped what he was doing and turned to give Jayne the coldest look anyone had ever given him. Yet somehow it burned, and it nearly made him back up a step.

"Get out," the doc ordered, his tone deathly serious.

Jayne opened his mouth to object when Simon suddenly exploded.

"YOU HAD ONE JOB!" he shouted, throwing down his tray of tools with a loud crash. "ONE. _FUCKING_. JOB! Now look at her! Look happens when you get careless! She's my sister, Jayne, my _family_. Don't ask me how she's doing, she could have been _killed_ out there. She could be dead right now, because of _you!_"

Faster than anyone could follow, he was across the room and nearly standing on Jayne's toes, his eyes blazing. "One job, and you _screwed it up_. Now get the hell out of here and let me do mine."

Without waiting to see if Jayne did as he was told, Simon went back to his sister. He stared down at her for a moment before he suddenly broke down and took her up in his arms, pressing his forehead against hers and releasing one heartbroken sob. He clutched at her like she was a little doll and rocked her back and forward.

"What else are they going to take from you?" he whispered shakily. "What else are you gonna have to lose, _mei mei_?"

Kaylee's cries intensified, like his pain was hurting her even more. Nobody could ever remember seeing him lose control like that. Simon – one grudgingly had to admit – was normally a calm and clear-headed professional, even when it came to dealing with his sister. Inara looked as though she wanted to say something to him, but decided against it and exchanged looks with Mal. The captain, in turn, looked at Jayne and nodded towards the door.

Swallowing, Jayne backed out of the sickbay. He had never been afraid of any man the doc's size before, but the rage that had blazed in the young man's face was enough to make anyone's mouth go dry. Mal and Inara followed him out into the waiting area with the rest of the crew.

"Jayne, what in the hell happened out there?" the captain demanded, with an obvious attempt at keeping his voice under control. "And mind when I say that I ain't lookin' for tall tales."

The hired gunman slumped against the wall and leaned his head back, closing his eyes so that he didn't have to see everyone staring expectantly at him. "We was attacked," he began wearily. "The kid was playin' a game and took off. I lost her in a crowd, but I chased her into a bar. Ran into some trouble with a local thug. He was actin' a little too friendly with her, and I lost my temper. Prolly said some not so smart things. Didn't want her gettin' caught in no brawl – there was a lot of 'em all gearin' up for a fight – so we ran into an alley to get away. They caught up, though."

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his short hair before continuing. Simon had quieted himself, but was still cradling his sister's unconscious body against his chest. "I shot at a bunch of 'em, but it wasn't enough. They roughed me up and then knocked me out. River, they . . ."

Kaylee broke the silence that followed with a loud sob and threw herself back on Wash's arm, who uttered a few choice words in Mandarin. Inara looked suddenly ill and sat down heavily on a crate, burying her face in her hands. Zoe went and stood wordlessly behind her husband, her face schooled to reveal none of the rage she must have been feeling. Shepherd Book merely stood there and began muttering prayers, his bushy grey eyebrows knitted together in earnest. Mal went over and put a hand on Inara's shoulder, his back rigid. Jayne didn't even want to see the look his captain's eyes.

For a long time the crew waited, watching through the glass as Simon, still trembling, went about wiping the blood off his little sister's body. Trying to put the pieces back together as best as he could.

Jayne came awake with a start. He was alone in the waiting area, still propped up against the wall with his knees drawn up. He stood up slowly, achingly, trying to remember when exactly he had fallen asleep. The rest of the crew was gone, no doubt off trying to distract themselves. In this line of work, people had to come up with ways to keep busy when someone got injured. Time wasted on worry was time best spent on something productive, as the captain would often say.

He stretched, ignoring the way his body screamed in protest. The bruises were still throbbing, and the cuts stung mercilessly when he moved. But this was a kind of pain he was accustomed to, something he could deal with easily.

There was no one in the infirmary with River, which struck him as odd. There probably wasn't much anyone could do for her until she woke up, and Jayne figured Kaylee must have coerced the doc into getting some sleep. Cautiously, he inched his way in to see how the kid was doing.

It felt strange, being alone with her again. She looked better without all the blood caked on her, but one side of her face was still purple and swollen with bruises. Shame, too. She really was a cute little thing, he mused. He'd always known that, but kept the thought to himself, just in case she was poking around in his brain. He didn't need her blurting that sort of thing out loud to the rest of the crew.

He needed to work, needed to something to keep busy. Anything to help his mind steer clear of the direction it was heading. His eyes landed on her hair, long and dark and spilling over the edges of the table. Her brother had cleaned out the blood and dirt, but it was still tangled, and didn't look nearly as pretty as it usually did. Automatically, he pulled up a stool and busied himself combing out the knots, fingers aching for the distraction. There was something calming about it, the steady rhythm his hands picked up.

He didn't even hear Simon come in until the doc spoke behind him.

"I should probably take a look at gash on your head," he said quietly.

Jayne faltered, not daring to turn around. He then shrugged a little, letting his fingers continue to work. "Don't hurt much." Truth be told, he had forgotten about it entirely.

But a moment later, Jayne felt a warm damp cloth gently wiping away the blood that had crusted in his hair. The doctor was being surprisingly gentle.

As if reading his thoughts, like his little sister, the doc sighed and filled the silence between them. "I'm not mad at you," he informed. "I thought I was, but . . . really, it's the people who did this to her. I know you did everything you could, Jayne. And for that, I'm grateful."

It was like a sack of bricks suddenly landed on Jayne's heart. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the edge of the table. Anger, he could handle. Hell, he was pretty sure he deserved it, too. Kindness was a slow and painful torment that only made him feel even more helpless.

"I really thought I could protect her," he murmured, unable to keep his eyes from raking in every bruise and cut on River's face. _All your gorram fault. Every single one of 'em._

"So did I." Simon's voice was barely a whisper. They fell silent as the doc finished cleaning the wound at the back of his head and stitching it up. All the while, Jayne kept at his task of combing River's hair. She had been completely still the entire time, with no sign that she was even alive except for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Then Simon removed his gloves and gave Jayne the first sympathetic look anyone had given him in a long time.

"Now would be a good time to get some sleep," he suggested. "Want any painkillers?"

Jayne shook his head wordlessly, still busy with the hair combing. He felt Simon's eyes on him.

"She's probably going to be out cold for a while," he pointed out. "You don't have to keep a vigil like this."

"It's fine, doc," Jayne growled. "The crew needs you in better shape than me. Go on and get some rest."

The doctor smiled faintly and nodded once. There were some things that need not be argued about. He was almost out the door when he paused and turned back.

"Just so you know," he said, "nobody blames you, Jayne. Everyone's just worried, that's all."

The merc just nodded, not trusting his voice to reply. He heard the doc's footsteps fade away, echoing lightly on the metal grating of the floor. He knew the young man was being sincere, but it didn't lessen the guilt. He wondered if anything could, really. Maybe this was one of those annoying instances where he was just going to have to learn to 'forgive himself'. He scowled at the thought and couldn't decide whether or not the idea was stupid or intimidating.

There were no more tangles to chase away. He ran his fingers through her hair a few more times to make sure, trying to remember it without the gobs of blood and dirt in it from before.

"You're a real brat, you know that?" he said aloud, gazing down at her serene face. "Why'd you have to run off? You never listen, gorram it. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

No response. Checking tentatively over his shoulder to make sure they were really alone, he lightly touched her unmarked cheek with the back of his hand. It was softer than he expected.

Against his will, he nodded off again, his head nestled in his arms on the table close to her side. He had wanted to stay awake to make sure nothing happened to her during the night, but he was exhausted, and sleep crept up on him like a shadow. He dreamt about things he had long forgotten, memories he had pushed to the bottom of his heart that until now had never dared to resurface.

Once, when he was just a kid, his neighbour had asked him to look after one of the lambs that had been born on his farm. It was a runty little thing with off-kilter legs, and normally the farmer would have had it slaughtered for dinner, but his little girl begged him to keep it alive, so alive it stayed. Jayne, being nine years old and eager for any chance to make a bit of coin, had agreed readily. But the lamb was a flighty young thing, prone to wandering off. It dodged out of sight and got attacked by a pack of feral dogs that had been prowling the outskirts of town. Jayne caught up and chased them off with a blunted stick, but the lamb was so torn up that it died in his arms before he could get it back to town for someone to patch it up.

That was the last time Jayne could ever remember crying. The little animal's screams kept him awake at night for months afterward. And to this day he still could not abide the thought of eating lamb.

Something soft and cool on Jayne's skin made him jump slightly, yanked from the depths of sleep. He blinked in the pale fluorescent light of the sickbay and found himself gazing down at little River, awake and resting her hand on his arm, pale and tired-looking. His heart lifted.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted, no longer needing to force the warmth into his voice.

"I heard your thoughts in the dark," she said, still sounding a little drowsy from the sedative her brother had given her a while ago. "Heard the story about the lamb."

The merc shrugged and looked away from her. "Yeah, well . . . this whole thing just sorta made me think on it some." He was anxious to change the subject. "You feelin' any better?" It was a stupid question, he knew, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

She speculated on this for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "No. This is a new kind of pain."

He frowned a little. "Want me to get the doc?"

River shook her head slowly. "He'll make me cry. I'll feel his sadness. I don't want to cry anymore," she insisted, although her voice was sounding a little wobbly already. He could see her trying to force the tears down, and he felt a pang in his stomach that nearly overshadowed the anger biting at the back of his mind. He tried to force it down, not wanting her to read his thoughts regarding the bastards who did this to her. It'd give her nightmares.

"Already have nightmares," she told him quietly.

"Well I ain't lookin' to give you more," he replied sternly. "So you'd best keep outta my head."

She nodded solemnly, but he knew she couldn't really control it. A few times, she had pointed out that he had 'loud thoughts', whatever the hell that meant. He coughed awkwardly and looked down at his hands.

"You, uh . . . want to talk at all?"

He had never in his life asked a living soul that question. But it felt like the right thing to say, and her big eyes looked so full of hurt that he wanted her to let it out in some way other than tears.

"Won't make it go away," she sighed. "Accomplishes nothing."

"Might make you feel better," he pointed out with a shrug. "You dames is always wanting to talk about one thing or another. Why not now?"

She turned her head to look at him almost fearfully, biting her lip. "Does Jayne think she is weak?"

He brows furrowed in confusion. "Weak?"

She lowered her gaze, looking deeply ashamed. "She let them break her. Jayne told her not to, and she failed. She let them in."

Jayne abruptly moved to sit on the edge of the table, placing a hand on either side of her head and leaning close to her face. "Now you listen t'me," he ordered firmly, refusing to let her look away. "You. Ain't. Weak. Those sons o' bitches was so cowardly that they had to outnumber us five to one just to pin us down, girl. That means somethin'. Means you 'n' I are the toughest badasses out in the 'Verse. So don't you go conjurin' yer some weak lil' turtledove, not as long as I'm around."

He stopped when he saw her tears spill out. "Th-they broke me," she whispered shakily, squinching her eyes shut and trying to turn her face away.

She yielded instantly when he hefted her up into a lung-flattening bear hug that probably was none too gentle. He had forgotten she was naked under that blanket but it didn't really seem to matter at the moment. She rose up and wrapped her little arms around his neck, blubbering into his chest. Her skin was cold, but his was warm, and she buried herself into him as deeply as she could.

"They stretched me out," she choked, her voice resonating in his chest. "Stretched me so that I don't fit in this skin anymore. Nothing fits. All the pieces are wrong, and it won't stop _hurting _and I'm so . . . so _ugly _now . . _._"

Feeling as close to distraught as he could ever remember feeling, Jayne wondered how hard he could squeeze her before crushing her to death. The girl in his arms shook her head. "Won't crush me," she promised. He took that as a sign of permission and pressed her so tightly against his body that he could feel every little rib of hers poking into him. She squeezed back, like she wanted to disappear inside him completely, and didn't seem to mind his stubble rubbing into the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. He found himself praying – first time in a long while – that there was a way he could take every ounce of pain she was in and take it on himself instead. His bruises were just gonna have to get over it.

He was not a man of words, least none that were too complicated. But until now he had never realized how small and stupid and meaningless 'sorry' was. Five measly little letters in one tiny word simply wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And it was the only thing he could think of, over and over again.

"I hear you," she assured him using his shirt as a temporary hankie. "I hear you, Jayne. It's okay. I won't be another lamb, I promise."

A sound escaped his throat before he could hide it from her. She turned her head as far as she could to kiss the side of his neck. He had never seen her do anything like that to anyone except for her big brother, and the gesture lit a tiny flicker of warmth in his belly.

"You'll be alright, babe," he mumbled. "Jayne's gonna see to it."

Exactly three days later, the small town of Proudmoore on the planet Beylix was stunned to find ten familiar dead bodies in an alleyway. All dressed in suits, the men had each been shot so many times that their blood had begun to pool out into the middle of the street. There were no witnesses, but a few people who had heard the bullets flying insisted that they could hear a man's voice laughing almost maniacally all throughout the chaos. Little to no police work was done in order to track down the culprits behind the crime.

There was, in fact, only one.


End file.
